


Come Away With Me

by Lady_Frija



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Budding Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Healing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Redemption, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Frija/pseuds/Lady_Frija
Summary: Hermione is finding it difficult to concentrate on her studies. Memories of times since past seem to haunt her at every turn. Strange that one of the people she SHOULD hate most is the very one she seems to find genuine comfort in.Story written for the Elm and Vine Lumione Budding Desires Spring Fest.Prompt given: Hermione can't concentrate on her studies anymore because of trauma of the war. Lucius comforts her and helps her and the beginnings of a relationship ensue.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 70
Collections: Budding Desires Spring Fest





	Come Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Budding_Desires](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Budding_Desires) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Hermione can't concentrate on her studies anymore (of age or after hogwarts) because of trauma of the war.  
> Lucius comforts her and helps her (not foremost or in a major way with money! He helps otherwise) .  
> Then/ thus (beginnings of) relationship ensue

Chapter One: Never Say Never

_“When the demon that's inside you is ready to begin,  
And it feels like it's a battle that you will never win.  
When you're aching for the fire and begging for your sin.  
When there's nothing left inside, there's still a reason to fight.” _   
**A Reason to Fight, Disturbed**

**Early April 1999.**

Hermione Granger sat in a stairwell down the hall from her Potions classroom, feeling quite annoyed with and disappointed in herself. She had skipped a class. Actually. Skipped. A class. A _whole_ class. Not left early. Not showed up slightly late. _Skipped it._

What the hell was wrong with her?

Even as she asked that self-reproachful question, she laughed derisively knowing the answer. This had been too much. This had been a mistake. But she had wanted to prove to herself and to everyone else that the golden girl of Gryffindor wasn’t some frail, wilting daisy. Hundreds of students here, and staff for that matter, had to come back to Hogwarts and face the past. Why shouldn’t _she_ be able to?

_“Well you done a little more than most, ain’t ya?”_ Ron had challenged.

She’d ignored him. “I can handle it.” She had said. “It’ll work out fine.” She’d insisted. She was strong, fierce, clever, independent Hermione Granger, dedicated to her studies and to fairness, and she would return to Hogwarts, head high, shoulders back, and she would excel because that is what she does. 

Now she was wondering why she had insisted. Maybe she should have done as her friends had suggested and taken the offered ministry position and honorary degree and been done with it. But her pride chafed at the prospect. Even if she could convince herself to leave for her own sake, she knew she never would. Some would say she had done enough for the wizarding world, but to be honest she felt she had a duty and responsibility. She had a responsibility to the first and second year students she’d been tutoring who had been delayed in their education due to the muggleborns not being contacted, and others who had been forced to leave Hogwarts or risk torture and death. She had a responsibility to the second years who could be found crying in the hallways whenever the memories of the reign of the death eaters caught up with them… 

Hermione brushed angrily at a tear streaming down her cheek. When had she begun to weep?

She had let her guard down, allowed her mind to wander too far, and the tight reign she clung to on deeper despair had slipped form her fingers in that one single tear until it dragged a torrent along with it. Hermione had no choice but to bury her face in her arms and lean over her knees, sobbing in the echoing hallway…

So violent were her cries, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps, and the steady measured clack of a cane against the stones… Hermione took several deep breaths as a pair of black slacks, polished black dragon hide half boots, and the hem of an equally dark set of robes. She had not yet looked up to see who the witness to her humiliation was, when a folded white handkerchief was extended to her. 

She took the offered linen and with her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at being caught, she unfolded it and dried her face, dabbing gently at her eyes. “Thank you.” She said quietly, going to hand it back.

“Keep it.”

Hermione’s head snapped upwards at the bone chillingly familiar voice. In one motion she stood up, clenching the kerchief in her hand angrily, and stepped back. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to step back to, and her heel scraped awkwardly against the bottom step she’d been sitting on and she lost her balance. The man in front of her reached out and grasped her forearm to steady her and she found herself suddenly pulled flush against the tall and unyielding frame of Lucius Malfoy. 

“I startled you.” He said.

She pulled free of his grip. “You!” she spat. “What the hell are you playing at?!”

He looked taken aback, raising an eyebrow as his gaze swept over her. “It’s considered bad form to ignore a woman in distress, no matter who she is.”

“I would think banishing them from the wizarding world or allowing them to be tortured in your drawing room would be worse form!” Hermione scowled.

A slight sneer curled his lips. “Apparently I should have gone with my first impulse and kept walking.”

“Maybe you should have!” she snapped. “What are you even doing here? How did you get in?”

“Through the front door is the most common option.” He said dryly. “Today, I arrived by floo to the headmistress’s office.”

“McGonagall let you in?” she asked in disbelief. 

“You will find even the most deeply held values and opinions take a back seat,” he huffed, as if bored with her questions already. “When you have something that everyone wants.”

“What could you possibly have that would make McGonagall admit _you_?” she demanded. 

“Potions. Or at least the ingredients for them. Supply chains were drastically disrupted, and particularly rare ingredients are too sparse or too expensive for Hogwarts’ potion’s master to acquire within the school’s budget. I was asked to intervene with my family’s apothecary.”

Hermione scoffed. “That didn’t take long. It’s not been a year since the end of the war and you’ve already managed to find a way to profit from the damage you helped cause.”

“Actually, the arrangement was to be free of charge.” He said, a bit coldly. “Given the school’s persistent struggles. I have merely been here to speak of logistics. Good day, Ms. Granger.”

With that parting statement, Mr. Malfoy turned on his heel and swept stiffly but confidently down the hallway, leaving Hermione staring irritably at his retreating back, his handkerchief still clutched tightly in her balled fist. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione could think of a few dozen reasons why she should not be feeling guilty over the interaction she’d had with Mr. Malfoy. So aggravated was she by the experience, she sat slumped over her desk when she was supposed to be deciphering in her ancient runes class, ticking them all out in her head.

_That madman he worked for killed. So. Many. He worked for him. He let you be tortured in front of him. He’d have killed you and your friends at the department of mysteries. He was a Death Eater. He hated muggles, and muggleborns. He terrorized the people at the world cup. He tried to have Buckbeak executed. He gave that stupid book to Ginny. It’s his fault you were petrified 2nd year. He raised Draco to be a git –_

Hermione shook her head. Better to stop. If she didn’t, she’d probably start blaming him for the rain, clouds and global warming. Not because he hadn’t done things to be angry over, but because that’s just how her head seemed to be working lately. She thought wryly that it was probably best she and Ron had broken things off when they had, before he started to hate her for her melancholy and harshness. 

She straightened, mildly surprised to find she had her hand in her pocket, the handkerchief he’d given her held between her fingers, her thumb running down the hem of the linen. On impulse she took it out and unfolded it. It was a simple white linen, unadorned and practical. She didn’t know what she had expected, expensive silk or monogrammed or some nonsense. But she studied the mundane item, a small polite gesture that she’d thrown back in his face.

_You really improved his opinion of muggleborns, didn’t you?_ Her more amiable self-thought angrily. 

_So what?_ She retorted to herself. _It’s not my job to change his mind!_

But the first self, stared her down disapprovingly, tapping her foot against Hermione’s nerves in impatient staccato. She groaned inwardly dropping her hands and the kerchief in her lap, humiliation at her outburst starting to set in. 

As fate would have it, on her way to the dining hall for dinner, her books clutched to her chest like a shield, she caught sight of Mr. Malfoy from the corner of her eye. She stopped suddenly, just outside the door to the great hall and stared at him. He was standing near the stairs that would lead down to the door, speaking to Horace Slughorn. Hermione stood watching them, debating whether or not to approach, what she would say if she did…  
She saw the two men shake hands and Lucius turned and began descending the stairs and Hermione rushed forward. He was halfway down when she reached the top. “Mr. Malfoy!” she called.

The blonde wizard stopped and turned, his face hardening when he saw her. “Ms. Granger. I believe we have said all that needs to be said.”

“No, we haven’t.” she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

She bit her lip as he stared at her blankly for a moment before turning and ascending the stairs. He stopped a step down so that he was eye level with her, and she saw a degree of intrigue in his eyes – she found herself entranced by them. She had never – never- been this close to him, just inches away and she searched the icy silver-grey depths curiously. 

“Now… that is intriguing. Hermione Granger apologizing to _me_ of all people? Was it painful, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Very. But… I am… Sorry.” He nodded once but she still felt irritable. She felt as though she should offer some sort of explanation. “I… you see lately I…”

She huffed and stopped talking, casting a quick look over her shoulder, feeling on edge with the drastic swell of people moving about in the hall and on the stairs. 

Lucius looked over her shoulder as well, his narrowed eyes sweeping over the assemblage, a few people stopping and staring, and back to her flustered expression with a dawning expression of understanding. 

“Would you like to come away for a brief walk?” he asked suddenly. “I find the night air clarifying and you may find your mouth and brain more willing to cooperate with each other.”

Hermione mouthed silently for a moment in surprise. Yes, quiet and privacy would probably make this easier. “Uh… yes. Thank you.”

Almost as if it was of their own volition, she found her feet moving to follow him down the stairs. The large door opened and swung forward, and they stepped out into the spring air of a gently falling dusk. The sky was clear but there was rain on the air and she took a few quiet lungful's of the trees, lake and earth, the din of the school fading, her shoulders relaxing away from the crowd. Mr. Malfoy seemed to relax as well, and Hermione fell into an easy pace beside him, their footsteps the only sound against the stairs as they made their way across the grounds seeming to gravitate towards the lake. Neither spoke for several moments as Mr. Malfoy waited patiently and Hermione struggled for purchase within her own mind wondering what to say. 

“Um. Right. So…” she said, scarcely able to believe she was actually doing this. “As I said inside. I’m sorry for my outburst when you came upon me in the hallway. There’s no excuse but I hoped if I explained… I’ve been on edge. And very little if any of my angst had anything to do with you, but unfortunately, I can’t lash out at what was bothering me, and you were a convenient outlet. Regardless of the past… it wasn’t appropriate.”

They continued their unhurried stroll, Hermione holding her hands together behind her back a bit anxiously. She looked about the dark shadowed landscape, and while they were out in the open her rational side caught up to her too late, and she realized being in seclusion with a wizard like Lucius Malfoy was unwise. But his hands were visible, and she could get to her own wand easily. 

He came to a stop a few paces away from her, staring out over the black water of the lake, his hands linked together over the head of his cane and she took the moment of his silence to take a steadying breath of earthy fresh air, the gentle lapping of the water against the gravel shore soothing her frayed nerves.

He finally turned back towards her. “We have had very limited direct interactions Ms. Granger.” He said after studying her silently for another moment. “But I feel confident in saying you do not seem yourself.”

“I… I’m not.” She admitted. “I…”

Hermione turned away hurriedly, loathe to let him see the tears springing to her eyes once more. Gods above, what was wrong with her? Had she really become this blubbering, neurotic mess? To her mortification, and Mr. Malfoy’s wide-eyed surprise, she discovered her cheeks soaked as she was once more sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. Please, you should go. I’m sorry again, please. Ignore me. Have a good day, Mr. Malfoy.”

Burying her face in her hands in frustration she took several hurried paces further around the lake, leaning against the large tree she and her classmates had sat beneath so often reading, talking or gossiping… Viktor Krum had met her eye on his way to practice for the second task, that year Cedric died and Voldemort returned and the world had been changed forever…

She was deep into her despair so far, that she didn’t hear the measured footsteps coming closer behind her, and a large but gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. 

“Ms. Granger… Hermione.” 

She turned in surprise and her lips parted at his nearness. His voice was gentle, and his eyes shockingly softened by something that looked like genuine empathy. She was caught off guard, her eyes searching his face for answers to questions she wasn’t sure how to ask. Darkness was falling quickly, his face as shadowed as hers and she noticed the light from the moon overhead reflecting off the lake and into his ice blue eyes. Suddenly she was all too aware of him as a man as she had turned, her body only a few breaths apart from his, warmth emanating off of him.

His eyes flicked over her face, resting momentarily on her lips and he blinked as if shaking himself loose from something. “Perhaps I can help.” He said quietly.

His offer surprised her, and her brow furrowed as she looked at him. “Why?” she asked in genuine confusion. “Why do you care?”

“Because I…” he hesitated, searching for words as he stared intently into her eyes. “Because I am sorry too.”

To say she was stunned was a gross understatement. They stood in the dark staring at each other, and she replayed the simple words. She had never expected to hear him say them, it had never even occurred to her to want to…

But he had said them, and now they hung in the air, heavy in the small space that was still between them. 

“You said your distress had little to do with me but… there is no denying the things I have done. And I am sorry, more so than I think I can express in words, for the part I played in bringing about the Dark Lord’s reign. And despite trying to turn over a new leaf…. It doesn’t change what has happened. And I am sure, after all you have lost, it was not easy to see me standing before you. Please believe me that my gesture was meant well… I was simply reacting and had I thought about it, I would not have imposed –”

“Oh no, please.” She said shaking her head, reaching out impulsively and laying her hand against his bicep. He startled and glanced down at her hand, surprised but didn’t look distressed, and she withdrew her touch, looking down and slowly flexing her fingers at the warm tingling feeling that was coursing through the slender digits. “Um… that was my point. I know you’ve been trying to rebuild; I’ve seen the papers. And even though I may be in the minority I do believe you are genuine.”

It was his turn to look perplexed. “You do?”

“Yes.” She replied. “I mean… it would be a rare person to go through what you and your family went through and not have done some serious reevaluating…”

He forced a smile. “My own wife was not so understanding or optimistic.”

Hermione grimaced sadly. She had of course heard about the divorce in the papers, most of society unsurprised by the turn of events but she had not known it was due to the public changes Lucius had been striving to make. “Well… people deal with trauma in different ways.”

He looked at her with a degree of sadness. “You are very gracious, Ms. Granger. I do not realistically think you could ever truly forgive me. But I ask for it all the same.”

“Never say never.” She smiled gently at him. “And I thought it was _Hermione_.”

He gave a short breathless laugh. “If you wish, _Hermione_.”

Hermione’s smile softened a bit as she took in the effect that brief quiet laugh had on his normally stoic apathetic features. His eyes danced and endearing laugh lines appeared. What was this twisting and fluttering in her stomach?

Desperate to find something to take her mind off the uncomfortable feeling in her belly, she said the first thing that came to mind. “I know you’ve been working with the committee to overturn the anti-muggleborn laws. The public wasn’t thrilled at your inclusion, but the committee said your knowledge has been very helpful in unravelling hundreds of years of entrenched dogma. It must be very complex.”

“It can be.” He said, giving her a sidelong glance, likely recognizing the abrupt topical change but didn’t mention it. “But… seeing as I had a hand in seeing them entrenched, my presence as they are dismantled makes sense rationally, even if it angers the public.”

“I had hoped to join that endeavor after graduation.” She added.

“ _Had_ hoped?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Um.” She bit her lip. “Well… I had been thinking… that is I wasn’t sure…”

She trailed off, not wanting to admit her own weakness but the wizard in front of her was nothing if not observant and he seemed to put it together.

“You are… surely you’re not considering abandoning your career choice?”

Hermione sighed and turned away in shame; her arms wrapped around herself as she faced the lake. 

“Not at first.” She admitted. “I was offered an honorary position at the ministry, like Harry and Ron but my pride wouldn’t let me take it. I wanted to come back and finish my education.”

“Then… what is the difficulty?”

“Because I am not certain I _can_ finish my education. And I don’t know that I could swallow that pride enough to go back and ask for the offered position anyway. It would be humiliating, and no one would take me seriously. And since home based, self-guided instruction isn’t really feasible…”

He was staring at her in a small degree of surprise and perplexed thought. In for a sickle in for a galleon, she thought and explained.

“When you found me in the stairwell, I was quite overwhelmed. I wish I could say it was a one-off thing, but the truth is it wasn’t. This is…” she closed her eyes and took a breath, “This is hard to admit, but earlier when you said it couldn’t have been easy to see you in front of me you were close to the truth. I was thinking of everything I had lost. But its more than that somehow. Its like the walls and the stone in the floor itself hold on to all the memories. The bad memories are there, the good ones tainted. Its like the whole castle, the whole world is this living, indestructible horcrux sucking the life out of me.”

A faraway look was shadowing his eyes when she chanced a glance at him as if he were contemplating something before he spoke. “It seems to me that if it is the location that is adding to your angst, simply getting away from it from time to time should suffice. At least in part.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have anywhere to go. My parents are gone, Ron and I are through, Grimmauld holds the same memories, I can’t stay with Harry, Hogwarts…” She sniffed, pinching the bridge of her nose against a rising headache all this crying was bringing on. Ugh. Crying. _Crying_ in front of Lucius Malfoy. But the words had started, and it was all going to tumble out against her will and without any thought to who her audience was. She gave a nervous and very watery laugh. “It’s gotten to the point… it has gotten to the point I’ve actually considered leaving. All of it. Forgetting I’m a witch. After how much I thought I was dedicated, after how much I tried to fit in I’ve considered giving it all up. Snapping my wand, walking out of here and saying to hell with every bit of it. Maybe I can just get a flat and go be a dentist like my parents.”

She could tell by the furrowing of his brow he desperately wanted to ask what a dentist was but refrained. That amused her but she couldn’t make the laugh in her mind reach her lips. “And…” Hermione dragged her hands through her hair aggressively. “Aargh! I’m doing it again! I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause and Hermione didn’t look at him, folding her arms tightly over her stomach willing her tears into submission for all the good it did. The only sounds a chorus of crickets and the occasional frog or hoot of an owl searching for its supper. Suddenly he spoke.

“Hit me.”

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to her right, to where he was standing placid and sober and presumedly sound of mind. “W-what?”

Mr. Malfoy faced her and showed her his cane and the wand in the handle then laid it down on the ground out of reach. “Hit me.”

“You’re not joking.” Hermione realized after looking at him for several moments. “You’re being serious right now.”

“I have never been accused of having a sense of humor.” He said simply, and then spread his palms out opening his chest for assault. “Hit me.”

Hermione looked about them in confusion, met his intent and entirely humorless eyes and with a stop-start of hesitation squared her fist and punched him in the chest, but admittedly without much of what could be called success…

Mr. Malfoy dropped his arms, fixing her with a look of deep disapproving impatience. “Really? I thought you were angry.”

“I was. I _am_.” she scowled, “But I mean, I apologized to you and you, weirdly, apologized to me, and… well that kind of takes the steam out of it doesn’t it?”

“What if I called into question your ability to even throw a proper punch?” he raised an eyebrow, “A girl of your –”

Hermione threw another one, irritable, harder, but obviously still lackluster.

Malfoy huffed deeply. “Oh, come now! I expected better of Gryffindor’s princess, not this weak, pathetically orchestrated –”

He was cut off with a groan as she threw another, this one landing harder and unfortunately off the mark, lower, and instead of slamming against his chest, down in the center at his diaphragm.

Hermione jumped back, hands over her mouth as she gasped. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry! That’s not where I… oh dear.”

Hermione reached out to him to touch his shoulder as he was doubled over and coughing, “Much better.” He choked. 

“Are you… umm… are you ok?” she asked in a rush, her anger and angst quite forgotten. “Should you maybe sit?”

With some difficulty, Malfoy straightened, blinking and waving away her apologies. “Now I can see how you broke my son’s nose.”

Hermione stepped back in surprise, her lips parting. “He _told you_ that?”

“There was alcohol involved in the confession.” He said dryly

Hermione couldn’t quite suppress a peal of laughter and when he met her eyes, his own dancing with mischief and amusement, and her smile faded. He had stunningly beautiful eyes…

She shook herself off that strange train of thought. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Perfectly.” He smirked. “I may bruise but can you really be blamed if I demanded it?”

Hermione giggled. “Alright…”

Hermione wasn’t sure what _should have_ happened next. But as they stood in the dark, staring at each other in a strange mutually perplexed trance, she saw him raise his hand. Slowly, hesitating ever so slightly before his palm came to rest gently against her cheek. Masculine, but shockingly tender, his thumb moved outward to catch a lingering tear.

“You _will_ make it through…” 

And just like that, the contact was broken. He seemed to shake himself out of whatever his thoughts were, and he dropped his hand, leaving her previously cradled face feeling cold and despondent. But a lightness had filled her belly and lungs at his touch and words, as if a weight had been lifted from on top of her. 

Yes. She could – no. _Would_. _Would_.make it though. She didn’t know why she needed to hear that, but she apparently did. 

“Well.” She said, taking a deep breath, a warmth spreading through her limbs as if she’d had a sip too much of champagne. “I’d best be getting back to the castle. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy…Truly.”

Another gentle smile curved his lips. “ _Lucius_.” He amended.

He extended his hand and she took it, trying hard to stifle a shiver as their hands touched and he bowed over it, brushing his lips across her knuckles. The slowly spreading warmth turned to an embarrassing ache…

She nodded. “ _Lucius_.” Hermione smiled breathlessly and with some difficulty turned and walked back to the castle. It took a disconcerting amount of effort to resist turning and glancing back at him… And she couldn’t help the thought crossing her mind that something had shifted and changed… but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was… And so, deep in thought Hermione Granger continued on to the castle, fighting the urge to go back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I wrote for the prompt challenge Budding Desires. There’s definitely some things blossoming between Hermione and Lucius. At first I thought to make it a simple one shot, but I do believe I will come back to this and add to it and bring it to a much more satisfying conclusion :)


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